


A New Life Upon The Horizon

by idektvshows



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idektvshows/pseuds/idektvshows
Summary: A fix it fic - Julia didn't die. Julia and David 6 months on from the explosion.





	A New Life Upon The Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> I am firmly and happily in the denial bubble and refuse to acknowledge that Julia is dead so here is something I wrote something aka on their journey to a happy life.
> 
> All feedback is welcome and appreciated! :D

It had been exactly six months since the explosion, six months since David thought he lost Julia forever; missing what could’ve been.

In the immediate aftermath, even after all the revelations, distancing, shouting, tears and the guilt, she still wanted him there with her, by her side, twenty four seven because he made her safe. It was admittedly, fucked up, they both knew but, if they could get past the rehabilitation and heal in tandem, then they could achieve anything together.  The “scandal” of her affair with her former bodyguard David Budd hit the tabloids faster than ink to paper but surprisingly neither retaliated badly. They were prepared for the worst, Julia knew what to expect so surprisingly, David acted accordingly, even in despite of when one particular paper mentioned his wife and kids' - Julia told him it was a tactic for them to get more sales - maximum damage she coined. But nonetheless, coming home to him every night was worth the scandal headlines, the outburst from the cabinet, police and the public, purely and simply because she wasn't alone, she had him, her number one, the only one she trusted.

Every morning since _that_ day, he’d wake up and thank his lucky stars for another day with the infamous to some, but the woman he loved more than life itself, Julia Montague. David had known loss, or at least he thought he did, having served in the army for ten long years, having seen his friends blown up, scarred quite literally for life he thought that was pain, but he had never felt such devastation until he saw Julia lying injured on the stage and feeling completely responsible, yet unable to offer her comfort in any way.

She on the other hand, had discovered - ironically really, having it displayed right under her nose -  during her recovery with David by her side, quite literally every step of the way, there was truly more to life than work and for the first time she decided to follow her heart and not her head. She had been sitting on this idea, brewing over it in fact for about 5 months but one night in particular solidified her decision, the night in question, she had sat there, in that very chair at the table, going over a document for the umpteenth time, trying to concentrate but it was not working. David had the kids around for the weekend and Julia was distracted, she found her thoughts going to the family in front of her  _her_ family, she found herself mourning for all that she was missing - the conversations, the jokes and the laughs. She was tired of being in every newspaper, her speeches being ripped to shreds, slagged off and her words twisted and conspired on a weekly basis. Tired of the lies, of having to act tough and hard in front of cabinet ministers she really didn’t care for. Especially tired of the arguments and heated debates in the meetings and with said members of the cabinet who in their mannish ways, with their overly sized big egos who tried again and again to argue and overrule her in every decision she made, but most importantly, tired of being and feeling alone. 

And that’s how they found themselves here, six months later, sitting at the dining table in her grand flat, enjoying each others' company, fingers intertwined solemnly together and relishing in the delicious homemade meal made by David.

As David had a sip of his wine, he saw and sensed a difference in Julia, she was acting peculiar, she was averting her eyes from his, the usual air that surrounded her had dissolved and instead she seemed even more so preoccupied than usual, clearly absent-minded.

“What is it love?” he asked softly, rousing her from her trance - she looked to him.

“What do you mean?” she replied as nonchalantly as possible, trying to remain as calm and composed as ever. 

“Julia” he replied stubbornly, his tone firm. He clenched his jaw and waited patiently, watching as she looked down at the empty plate, avoiding embarking on the conversation that was going. He watched her patently as she ran her free hand through her hair, she did this when she was anxious and she hated when he was like this because she knew eventually she'd buckle and confide all to him.

“I hate that you know me so well” she scoffed, feeling ridiculous and slightly annoyed at her own transparent self. Eventually after a delay, she met his anticipated and eagle eyed gaze. “But that's what I love about you," she huffed a smile and stroked over the softness of his hand, "unlike everyone else, you see beyond my facade” she confessed feeling completely foolish and showing him this blushing and by rolling her eyes.

He continued to stared at her like she was prey, waiting patiently for her to stop dancing around the subject and be forthcoming in what was burdening her, it was a matter of time after all.

“I’ve made a decision and I don’t want you to think that it’s a decision made in haste because truly it is not. I have been brewing over this for five goddamn months." she laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. "This doesn't come as a direct result of the explosion, because although the evidence is quite significant against my argument, it's actually because almost getting killed made me bloody realise that I have a life to live and I  _do_  have choices.” she tried to explain logistically but her nerves were getting the better of her.

“You’re resigning as home secretary?” he interjected, almost stating it as he read her wholly. 

“How do you feel about my decision?” she enquired, looking trepidatiously down at their adjoined hands, because however minuscule it might be, it would affect him too.

“I think you need to do what's best for you” he offered, thinking solely about how it would affect her rather than the pair of them because he was able to adapt to any given change of circumstance.

His default reply only fuelled her nerves because for the first time she actually wanted a thoroughly detailed response. “Default? Really David?” she sighed, allowing her anxieties to subside. 

“OK fine" he chose to be honest and thoroughly, like she expected. "I think given the circumstances, it's a positive move and perhaps given your mindset, is a wise one too. Wanting the keys to number ten was your endgame, but the accident presented you with a new set of cards." he replied non specifically, which she appreciated because he wasn't getting to personal and speaking strategically and with a disconnected perspective. 

"Your happiness and safety is the most important to me - I chose you because of how you make me feel and I feel we both benefit from each other. I’ll admit at first I thought you were a stone faced Tory bitch with a harsh and venomous tongue, with no time for idle or cackhanded behaviour, but once I got to know you, the real you and got under your skin, I realised that there is so much more, so much you hide away from the world. You're soft, sentimental, and funny - you provide me with something I’ve never had - understanding. And I support you in all choices you make." he reassured her with a hand squeeze and thumb stroke demonstrating they were in this together. "You know how I feel about you and if leaving your role means you’ll be happy in the long run, then I will be by your side with balloons if necessary" he smiled with a hint of sarcasm and watched her stand up, her demeanour changing, a mischievous look upon her face. 

She cocked her head sideways, “Stone faced Tory bitch?” she was surprised, goaded and playfully testing him.

Truth, he had never told her his first impression before, mostly because it wasn't relevant and there was no established foundation for it to be expressed in conversation and having revealed his first impressions and by the look she was giving him, they both knew she was going to use it as a power tactic. 

“Well” he watched her, gulping to suppress how uneasy and sticky she had made him feel, he began to sweat feeling hot beneath the collar as she leaned her hand purposely  against the back of the chair to inform him of her determining establishing her power. 

“Stone faced Tory bitch?” she repeated again, challenging, almost chuckling. She punctuated her words slowly so they hung intentionally in the air like a bad smell. She took the first opportunity and sat on his lap.

“First impressions count?” he laughed trying to regain some form of self confidence, half of him caring but the other half not. Her gaze intensified over him, feeling her hand snake up his chest and find comfort just behind his neck where she began to toy with the hair there. 

“Keep going, I am really enjoying this” she nodded slowly, her motive, obvious. She bit her lip and with her free hand began to play with his tie, very purposely like she was a cat with a ball of string, ready to attack. 

“The first interaction we had you told me you were late for a meeting and didn’t even notice, let alone care” he stated evidently, trying to get her to see his impression was plausible.

She thought vigilantly for a moment and then pouted at him, calculating his impression to be flawed, “Inaccurate actually" she titled her head so her lips rested beside his ear on his cheek. "I did notice” she whispered deliberately to entice him further into submission as she undid his tie. “I just had the Home Secretary act on point.” she replied bluntly as ever anticipated his reaction. "You know? The stone faced Tory bitch look you mentioned..." she trailed off. He felt her smirk against his cheek as she left a lingering kiss there. 

“Not anymore” he stated feeling lucky that she had mellowed to him and moved his head away so he could look her in the eyes - there was a mix of adoration and vulnerability.

“No." she looked down and swallowed, her voice softening. "Not anymore" she took his hand in hers and lifted it to her head "you’re in here and here now” she then rested his hand above her heart.

“A bloody miracle” he joked, slicing through the tender moment she was trying to provide and was met by a playful whack on the chest.

“Excuse me” she mocked.

“You love it” he told her straight, grinning knowingly and captured her lips gently. 

“Put your arms around me and hold tight” he warned her and waited until he felt her hands securely around his neck. He stood up and carried her in his arms to the bedroom.

“Dangerous to kiss me and carry me to bed, don’t you think?” she teased as he made his way across the floor.

“Only if you’re an amateur” he quipped sufficiently, his many years of experience to justify himself and put her down on the bed, giving her a very righteous look. “Which we both know I am not” he finished matter-of-fact, smirking at her as he positioned himself firmly above her and kissed her deeply.

* * *

 

“Is this the last of it?” David turned snapping Julia from her thoughts as she stood looking out of the window at a lit up London, her view for many difficult and treacherous year. She nodded firstly unsure but then sharply instating her readiness and returned to her pose, her hand against the glass. She watched him from the reflection of the glass picking up her box - he wanted to speak, to hold her, to offer her  _something_ but instead he decided to retreat to the door and make his exit quietly. Without any words she turned and followed behind him, switching the lights off and taking one last glance, remembering the good and the bad before closing the door on that part of her life.

“I’ll go ahead and put these in the car” he offered a small smile and disappeared around the corner.

“Wait." she called out hesitantly and after a few beats he returned to line of sight. "Thank you for doing this with me. I don’t know-”  she had approached him somewhat, before grinding to a halt, not steady or certain after all.

“Hey, come on love” he smiled emphatically. She watched him adjusting the box in his arms so he had a free one and finally held his hand out, “Let’s get these in the car and go home?”  he suggested and was met by her precious smile. 

Years and years in the cabinet and yet, one medium sized box to show for it? She could have cried laughing as he closed the boot. She waited until he was in the car before turning to him, snapping.

“One sodding box” she hissed and he chuckled as he found it amusing and started the engine.

“But thousands of conversations and decisions” he replied reminding her of it all.

She could have sworn or hit him because he was always so pedantic and wise when she didn't need him to be.

“Point made” she exhaled bitterly, her jawline sharp as he began to drive away.

“So Miss Ex Home Secretary, Julia Montague” he grinned after a few minutes of silence. “What would like to do tonight, tomorrow, the day after and the day after that..” he trailed off, full of excitement and nervousness that awaited for them. 

After an elongated silence, of deep and thorough thinking, she smiled like she had never been more certain of anything in her life, “Relax” she smiled unguarded  _at_ him, physically exhaling and relaxing into the seat, “Relax with you” she smiled satisfyingly at him. 

“That can be arranged” he humoured her, winking knowingly at her.

“All day” she took delight and gave him a suggestive look as he grinned like a Cheshire cat, she stretched her arm and found his leg, giving it a squeeze. Nothing quite matched the warmth she felt when his hand caressed over hers, even with his expert us on the road in front of them. 

“And for the record” she whispered. “Just because I’ve left my role doesn’t mean you stop calling me Home Sec or Ma’am. After all you know how fond I am of both titles when spoken under specific circumstances" she raised an eyebrow, hinting suggestively at something else. Something that was not to be uttered outside of the eight walls she called home.

“Aye, right ma’am” he chuckled, feeling himself blush and gazed over at her, the car slowing down as they approached some traffic lights in London. 


End file.
